


Daddy

by pluperfectsunrise



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A bit of ageplay, Daddy Kink, Established Relationship, Harry sucks a pacifier and cries, In an atmosphere of love and consent, M/M, One Shot, Roleplay, Smut, Spanking, all characters are adults, daddy!severus, positive self-esteem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:55:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29641977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pluperfectsunrise/pseuds/pluperfectsunrise
Summary: Severus Snape is not Harry Potter's father....But he is something else for Harry, on occasion.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Comments: 9
Kudos: 196
Collections: Some smut





	Daddy

**Author's Note:**

> Tags! Read them, please.
> 
> This wanted to be written, and I had a great time while I was writing it. Which probably says a few things about me, hahahah.

It was a quiet Sunday morning, breakfast eaten and the dishes washed, sunlight filtering into the cozy flat from a bright blue sky outside...

...And Harry Potter was getting the spanking of his life.

Severus had even given Harry a pacifier to suck on—one that he’d enlarged to be the right size for an adult man’s mouth—while bending Harry over his lap. Thwap! Another smack landed solidly on Harry's burning red backside. 

Severus had been stern and composed the whole time, hair partially falling into his face, the lines on it drawn with even more severity than normal. It made him look almost as gaunt as he'd been during Harry's schooldays. Occasionally, though, he would interrupt the blows with a caress and to tell Harry how well he was doing and how much Severus enjoyed seeing his pretty little arsehole pucker with each impact. 

And Harry would keep sucking on the pacifier madly, breathing harshly around it, his glasses slipping down crookedly to the bridge of his nose and fogging up from the tears that were tracking their way down his cheeks.

(It had been brilliant, the first time he'd found out that the stinging pain of having the dickens spanked out of him could actually elicit the physical reaction of making him cry. Before that, he hadn't been able to cry in years.)

Finally, Severus whispered that they were done and rubbed some soothing cream onto Harry’s flushed behind, cool against the burning skin. It was fresh and potent, the sort that he brewed himself and kept on hand in case the need arose. 

Then, Severus lifted Harry up and licked his tear tracks away, his tongue flattening against Harry’s cheeks. He was just as thorough about that as he’d been about delivering the spanking. 

At this point, Harry was covered in sweat and obscenely hard, his cock jutting into the smooth fabric of Severus’s vest now that he was straddling the other man’s lap. Because Severus was still fully dressed, of course. He didn't always dress entirely in black these days (it would have been impossible to completely avoid the influence of Harry's "this shirt has a hole but I like the colors and it smells clean" attitude toward clothing during four years of marriage)...but he'd brought out a very somber set of formal robes from the back of his wardrobe for this morning's occasion.

When Severus had finished cleaning up his face, Harry took out the pacifier so that they could kiss, drooling a bit of spit from between their joined lips. Severus’s mouth was hot and claiming on his own.

“You’re perfect,” Severus praised, his voice throaty and wrecked. His hands were smoothing up and down Harry’s arms, over his bare back. “Are you going to tell me what you want as your treat for doing so well?”

“Telly,” Harry decided, dipping his chin and mouthing the word huskily against Severus’s neck. “And popcorn. And I want to keep sitting on your lap while we watch.”

Severus caught Harry’s chin and wiped away some of the drool with a thumb. “Good little boys say please,” he said, one corner of his lips lifting slightly in a smirk.

Harry caught the thumb between his teeth in revenge for the smirk. Only a little nip. 

“Please, daddy,” he obeyed, holding Severus’s eyes. Harry knew that the green of his gaze did powerful things to the other man.

Severus accepted the terms easily after that, popping and buttering the popcorn in the kitchen while Harry found a special on telly about film noir that they both might find interesting. When Severus got himself situated on the couch, Harry found the biggest blanket they owned and snuggled in on top of his husband, still naked, spreading the blanket over them both. 

It was honestly a little uncomfortable, given how tender Harry's arse was at the moment—but Harry could tell from Severus's hitched breaths that he was enjoying the way Harry kept squirming whenever his rear twinged with pain.

Harry wouldn't have been able to eat if he kept the pacifier in, so he took it out of his mouth and held it in one hand while they watched the documentary. Every once in a while, he would turn his head for more sloppy kisses. He was enjoying the feel of Severus pinching his nipples and feeding him salty pieces of popcorn one fluffy kernel at a time. He was also enjoying how Severus would shudder whenever Harry ground his arse down into him in a seemingly innocent wriggle. 

And the best part of all, of course, was that Severus's hand would occasionally drop to give a few intimate and rough and wonderful pumps to Harry’s still-hard shaft. Just so it wouldn’t forget who’d got it so hard in the first place, Harry suspected.

"Greedy child," Severus said as he caressed Harry's prick and balls with a magically-slicked palm. He was an expert at fondling Harry just the way he liked.

Given the extended foreplay, it might not be surprising that it only took until halfway through the documentary before popcorn had been flung all across the floor and the blanket had been tossed aside so that Harry, bent over the coffee table in front of the sofa with his stinging red arse high in the air, could enjoy a nice, slow seeing-to from his daddy’s cock. In and out of Harry’s body it pumped between Harry’s abused buttocks, a languorous, claiming slide. Severus’s stamina deserved to be the stuff of legend. Harry had bitten the pacifier to pieces. He was crying again by that point because being fucked by Severus felt so good but it was so torturously slow, each of Severus’s fingers a burning brand on his hips, each of Severus’s thrusts calculated to be just a bit less than what Harry needed in order to finally, _finally_ come…

Harry heard a rustle of cloth, and he craned back to see that Severus was finally undressing. Severus never forgot that he wasn't a Muggle, and he didn’t do it like most other men would have—or even most other wizards. He released his grip on Harry's hips very briefly to hold out his arms, and his vest and robes unbuttoned themselves and flapped away from him with a surge of wandless, wordless magic. Severus was left after that with solely a pair of tight dark trousers on, pushed down only minimally so that Harry could feel them creasing against his arsecheeks whenever the other man bottomed out.

Harry would have been lying if he'd tried to claim that the whole thing—from the evidence of Severus's magical control to the fact that he wasn't even bothering to fully undress—was absurdly, mind-blowingly arousing. And Harry was always impressed by how muscular his scrawny-seeming husband really was underneath his sweeping robes and prim rows of buttons. Harry could see his pecs straining, each crowned by a pale, hard nipple. Harry could also see the sweat in the dark thatches of hair under his armpits. He looked like a wet dream.

“Repeat after me,” Severus said as he snapped his hips forward and back, the globes of Harry’s arsecheeks trembling as the base of his daddy’s shaft stretched him again and again. “I. Will. Not. Be. A. Reckless. Hero.”

“I won't be a reckless hero,” Harry panted and groaned.

“I. Will. Obtain. Aid. Before. Rushing. Into. Danger,” Severus leaned forward to hiss into Harry's ear.

Harry hung his head and repeated it dutifully.

Harry knew that the marks left by the Venomous Tentacula that had captured him during his mission last night were still visible circling his midriff and neck and upper arms and wrists and calves. They’d been fresh yesterday, and they would take a few more days to finish fading away. He _had_ been an idiot, going into the greenhouse of the potions-smuggling ring when he’d spotted a weakness in the wards without signaling for backup first. It had been a rookie mistake, especially for a man who had been in the Auror Corps long enough to earn his own patrol.

Harry had been castigating himself the entire time he was trapped, thinking, for the first time in a while, of that night after the Third Task at the graveyard, being bound and held in position while Wormtail took his blood. A sense of burning shame and simmering panic had stayed with Harry even after he'd been rescued by Ron.

"Can you punish me tomorrow?" Harry had asked Severus when he'd finally gotten home last night. They were tangled in their shared bed, all the lights off. It was easier for Harry to ask for what he wanted in the dark. 

He'd described what he wanted in more detail in a nervous burst, half speaking into the pillow, half into the other man's shoulder. "Please, Sev?" he finished. "Just...just to make sure the lesson sticks, yeah?"

Harry knew that this roleplay made Severus uncomfortable, to a certain extent. That was for a few obvious reasons: because Harry really _was_ young enough to be his son; because Severus had spent his adolescence carrying a torch for Harry's mother; because Severus had loathed Harry's father; because Severus had loathed his own father... The list was long and cumbersome.

But Harry also knew that there was a part of Severus that relished these moments when Harry wanted to place himself entirely in Severus's hands.

Now, the other man's thrusts had finally quickened, and Severus curled himself forward so that his forehead was pressed against Harry's back, his black hair spilling against Harry in a feathery cascade.

“Those. Who. Love. Me. Would. Be. Very. Upset. If. I. Died,” Severus grunted against Harry's skin, seeming by some miracle of willpower and physics to redouble his efforts to slam into Harry's slick rectum.

Harry felt as if Severus's grip on his hips was tight enough to brand him for life.

“Ah—ah—ah—ah—ah—ah—” Harry cried.

“Say it,” Severus ordered. He drew back a hand and landed a final ringing smack on Harry’s over-sensitized arse.

“You love me, and you would be upset if I died,” Harry managed, seeing stars.

Severus finally stilled. “Good,” he said, sounding as if all the air was rushing out of his lungs. “That’s daddy’s good boy.”

Severus said that word so rarely—the forbidden word—that hearing it in his voice made Harry clench and cry out and come in white stripes up and down the coffee table and the carpet. This was really the best thing he'd ever felt, even better than soaring up to the sun on his broom with the wind stinging his skin and the light blinding his eyes.

“Such a good boy,” Severus repeated softly, gathering Harry close as he fucked him through the peak of his orgasm. Severus's hand was on Harry's shaft now so that Harry could give small, helpless thrusts into it. He squeezed and pumped it gently to milk Harry dry.

Harry reached back to hold onto the other man for dear life, and he understood down deep inside that what Severus had said was true.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Stay safe, fandom friends <3


End file.
